


Never Lose

by wanderingoverthewords



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Insanity, Swearing, little bit of violence in the beginning, not intended to be shippy but can be if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingoverthewords/pseuds/wanderingoverthewords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike isn’t obsessed, nor is he crazy. It’s just a nice phone, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Lose

**I don’t own Five Nights at Freddy’s. Scott Cawthon does.**

**Summary: Mike isn’t obsessed, nor is he crazy. It’s just a nice phone, okay?**

**Notes: Takes place after Mike is fired in FNaF. It’s not intentionally shippy, but can be taken that way if you really want it to.**

**Warnings: insanity, swearing, little bit of violence at the beginning.**

…

He can practically _feel_ the seconds counting down now. It isn’t a nice feeling, though nor is it particularly bad. He’s used to it now, as much as one can be anyway, so it doesn’t bother him as much as it would anyone else. Maybe this job has just really fucked him up. Oh, well. Money’s money, yeah?

Mike Schmidt sits in his chair, tablet in both hands and head tilted sharply to one side to keep the phone’s receiver crushed to his shoulder. Night seven already. Everybody is especially active tonight, of course they are; Mike has messed with their AIs. He uses the tablet only to check on Foxy over at Pirate Cove and nothing else. The door lights will do to check on Bonnie and Chica and Freddy’s laugh is too noticeable and too loud to miss. Everything is familiar by now; there aren’t many scares for him tonight. Bonnie has come to his doorway five times and Chica six. Foxy has bolted his way three times and Freddy lurks in the hall. Mike takes extra care in keeping him out.

Yes, yes, this is all familiar to him by now. He is used to the robots’ movements and the sounds they make and such, though nothing is more familiar than the voice in his right ear. He can’t connect it to a face, as he’s never seen it and never will, but there is no doubt it is human and, really, that’s all he needs right now. He does not touch the last two messages and focuses only on the first three; they’re the good ones.

As Bonnie visits him again, the message ends. Mike waits for a moment to shut the door before reaching over with one hand (the left door is shut; it won’t matter if Foxy tries now) and presses a button. There is a moment, then ringing, then the voice is back.

“Hello, hello? Hey, you’re doing great!”

_Why, thank you, Phone Guy._

“Most people don’t last this long. I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I’m not implying that they died. Th-Th-That’s not what I meant.”

_Bullshit._ Chica visits him. The door is slammed in her face.

“Uh, anyway, I-I better not take up too much of your time. Uh - things start getting _real_ tonight.”

_Tell me about it._ Bonnie is gone. Time to open up - oh, wait. Foxy’s coming. Time to waste more power. What a prick.

“Uh…h-hey, listen, I had an idea: if you happen to get caught and want to avoid getting stuffed into a Freddy suit - uhh, try playing dead! You know, go limp.”

_Euphemism._

“Then there’s a chance that, uh, maybe they’ll think that you’re an empty costume instead.”

Foxy’s gone. Door comes up. Chica’s still there. Door stays shut.

“Then again if they think you’re an empty costume, they might try to…stuff a metal skeleton into you. I wonder how that would work.”

_It wouldn’t. Would hurt like a bitch, though._

“Y-Yeah, never mind, scratch that. I-It’s best just _not_ to get caught.”

_I’ll work on that. Thanks._ Chica’s finally gone, but Freddy’s outside. Door stays shut as Pirate Cove is checked. Foxy is peeking out. Tablet is put down and door is opened.

“Um…O-Okay, I-I’ll leave you to it. See you on the flip side.”

The recording finishes just like that. Mike smiles to himself in relief, then takes a moment to reach over to the phone and press another button. He does this now; has done since night six. He can’t help it. There is a moment, then more ringing, then it picks up.

“Hello? Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night.”

Mike replays the recordings of a dead man’s voice because it is the only comfort he has. Phone Guy has always been comforting to him. Admittedly, on night one, he’d believed Phone Guy’s kindness to be fake. Just some guy who had been offered a couple of extra bucks from the boss to leave messages for the new guy. Night two and Mike had started to believe that, perhaps, this man was as nice as he sounded. Night three and he had already decided on tracking this man down and taking him out for a drink to say thanks. Night four…

Well. He doesn’t think about that.

The doors open and close all throughout the recording. He plays all three good recordings over and over again, so much so he can now mouth the words along with Phone Guy.

He isn’t obsessed.

It is five am already. He’s going strong. Freddy almost gets in once, but Mike shuts him out. He checks his power supply. Just enough, he thinks. He isn’t sure. They’ve never all been set to twenty before. Things could change on him at any moment.

And they do.

It’s nearing six when Mike finally sees that his power is too low to carry on. Three percent quickly becomes two percent and Mike urges Bonnie to get _the fuck away from the goddamn door_ as it drops to one percent. Then zero percent. Mike shuts his eyes. It had been such a good attempt too. Maybe he’d gotten too cocky. Maybe he should have focused better. Whatever. The point is, Mike Schmidt is going to die at the hands of an animatronic bear. Or…paws. Paws? Hands? They look like hands. But…bear…so…paws? Whatever.

He thinks too much about this.

The lights go off and Mike has only two seconds to wait until the Toreador March begins to play and Freddy Fazbear’s glowing face appears in his doorway. Mike doesn’t shut his eyes just yet; he glares at the bear with no intention of looking away. He can’t see the clock in the darkness, so he doesn’t bother checking if six am will save him. He just glares at the bear, who seems to smile at him as the song goes on. It is the short version tonight; already over. The light of Freddy’s face goes out.

Mike sits back in his chair and waits for the inevitable, holding up both middle fingers and shutting his eyes. Oh, to hell with it, he doesn’t care anymore. He had stopped caring a while ago. Let Freddy do as he wishes.

Footsteps get closer and closer.

He hopes Phone Guy is as nice as he sounds on the phone, otherwise the afterlife is going to _suck_.

Thump, thump, thump…

With any luck, he won’t go to Hell. But, hey, won’t be surprised if he does.

He can practically hear _breathing._

He just hopes Phone Guy is okay, up there in Heaven - because that’s certainly where he ended up.

Here comes Freddy. Ready for Freddy, Mike Schmidt?

_Yes._

…Well. He doesn’t have to be - because here is six am.

Mike hears the chime blare out around him, but he doesn’t open his eyes until he is sure the lights have come back on. When he does, he screams because Freddy Fazbear’s paw-hands are only a centimetre from him and his own blue eyes are staring right into Mike’s. Mike Schmidt escaped death by literally a centimetre; a mere two seconds. Realising this, Mike stares at the bear before him, who is frozen on the spot, then slowly begins to laugh. His laugh is obnoxious and joyful and he throws his arms up in the air in his triumph, leaning forward to really shove his victory in Freddy’s face. “YES! YES!” He throws up his middle fingers, “SUCK IT, FAZ _BITCH!_ HAHA! FUCK YOU!” He laughs at Freddy a bit more before it slowly dies down. Mike’s head is tilted to the ceiling as he finishes, then he speaks, “…Seven nights. Seven nights in this hellhole…And I survived. I bet you’re really pissed off, aren’t you? Yeah. I bet. Or maybe you aren’t.” He sits up suddenly, scowling in Freddy’s face with a glare so strong Freddy could’ve caught fire, “After all, you’re not _human_. I don’t know what the _fuck_ you are, but you’re not _human._ I don’t give a shit what people say about you and your little buddies - you’re not alive. You’re some fucked up… _thing._ I hate you. I hate you all.” His glare deepens, “…Phone Guy is dead because of _you_. You _killed_ the _Phone Guy!_

“You know who I’m talking about, right? _Don’t you?_ I bet you remember every single face that stays in this office. Well, you can just remember _this face._ ” Mike points to his angry face; his bloodshot eyes widen, “Because this is the face of the man who _beat you at your own game._ You hear that? I played and you lost. I beat you. I beat you and you were _playing your best._ I bet that _really_ pisses you off, doesn’t it, you son of a bitch? Yeah. Yeah, I bet it does. Well, I don’t give a fuck anymore. Y’know why? Cause I’m Mike ‘Badass’ Schmidt! I’m the new leader around here and you - you’re just the bitch who lost. You were barely even a _player,_ Fazfuck.” He points to the door Freddy had entered through, “Now, get the fuck out of my office.”

He isn’t sure if Freddy is legitimately listening to him or if his timing is just really good, but Freddy straightens up like a soldier and marches out of the office mechanically (as if there is any other way to do it). Mike listens as he walks down the hall, then he sighs and leans back in his chair to relax for a moment. He stares up at the ceiling, his hardened gaze leaving him, then he turns his head to look at the red phone on the little table beside him. It has not had anything to say for a while now. He doesn’t blame it. “…I hope that did you justice, Phone Guy.” He whispers to it - to _him._ “See? Defeated them just for you. Hope that was okay.” He offers Phone Guy a grin that he finds surprisingly easy to make, then he looks back to the ceiling with straight lips.

This had been for Phone Guy - all for Phone Guy. Now what will drive him every night? He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know anym -

The phone rings.

Mike freezes immediately, his shoulders tensing. He turns his head without really thinking about it so that he can look at the phone. His eyes hurt - they are that wide.

Why, that phone hasn’t rung since…since…

“…Since you died…” Mike finishes out loud. More correctly, it is since he _heard_ Phone Guy’s death, but still. Dead men can’t call phones, even if the word is in their name.

Then again, has anything ever stopped Phone Guy before? Mike likes to think not.

Mike is trembling as he reaches out. This is a _phone_ , isn’t it? So…maybe it is someone actually calling. Maybe they want to book a date for a birthday party.

_So early in the morning?_

This place is popular - one has to call early.

_This early?_

Parents always want the best for their children.

_This isn’t the best._

It’s good enough.

Mike’s hand rests on the receiver for a few moments. He’ll have to tell them the restaurant is closed, he thinks. Yes. He’ll have to disappoint someone. It’ll be fine, though. He will be forgiven. His fingers finally close around the phone’s receiver and he picks it up, then holds it to his ear. He opens his mouth to speak, but someone beats him to it.

“Hello? Hello, hello?”

It’s him.

Mike’s eyes flood with tears.

“Oh, my - wow. You’re really something, aren’t you? Nobody’s ever set them _all_ up to twenty before!…Well. _One person_ did, but, uh, we shouldn’t talk about that. But, hey, I knew you could do it! Seven nights - wow. That’s an impressive feat, you know. But, uh, but I’m sorry to say - I still hold the record! Two years in that office. Huh. Time just flew, you know? But still - seven nights is definitely something to brag about! I hope you aren’t too traumatised after all that’s happened. Uh - not that you were ever in any danger to begin with. I-I - That’s not what I’m implying. Freddy and his friends are probably a little mad, though. They don’t like losing. They _do_ hold grudges, though. I should know - Bonnie still hasn’t gotten over that whole ‘taking his face off’ thing back in ‘87. Hehe…yeah. Sacrifices have to be made, am I right?

“Well, congratulations on your full week at Freddy’s. You’re definitely one of the best security guards we’ve ever had! So, get some good sleep, Junior, and I’ll talk to you later! Okay. Goodnight - or, uh, morning.”

Click.

Mike Schmidt begins sobbing then and there.

His tears are cold - so, so cold - as they travel in rivulets down his cheeks. Some wet the receiver that he clutches in his hand, pressing it to his ear as he waits and listens if Phone Guy will speak again.

He doesn’t. Mike still doesn’t blame him, but still doesn’t let go.

He will never let go.

Mike Schmidt is still sobbing when his boss and the janitor arrive a good hour or so later. Most of his sobs produce no tears, but he still can’t breathe all the same. When they find him, they pause in the doorway to stare. His boss - a fat man with grey and white hair and a brown suit on - speaks first, “Schmidt…what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Schmidt,” says the janitor. He looks creepy in his blue overalls; almost like a deranged farmer. The top of his head, where all the hair has evacuated from, shines in the lights of the office. His hair is wrapped around the sides of his head instead; it’s grey, “what the hell happened?”

Mike doesn’t answer. He can’t answer. He clutches Phone Guy’s hand to him still.

“For God’s sake, Schmidt,” Charlie, the fat one, snaps, “you’ve spent a whole week in here now! You should be _used_ to the crap these things pull!”

“Are they bad on Sundays?” Hank, the creepy one, asks over his shoulder.

“How the fuck should I know? Nobody’s ever worked here on Sundays. Well - except Cawthon. _Sometimes._ He never seemed to have a problem.”

Hank looks to Mike with soft eyes. He understands, or at least tries to. Somewhere deep inside of Mike, he appreciates the sentiment. Hank gently pries Phone Guy away from Mike’s grasp. Mike doesn’t move to get him back, and Hank sets the receiver down. “Jesus, Mike…”

“Fucking hell, Schmidt!” Charlie waves a hand in front of his nose, “Did you piss yourself _five times_ or something?! Holy shit!”

He did, as a matter of fact. So shut the hell up, you fat bastard.

“C’mon, Schmidt.” Hank says. It is a command, but it is gentle. He takes hold of Mike’s arms and pulls carefully to try and get him to stand. “Time to go.” He manages to get Mike on his feet and out of his chair, which is soaked with Mike’s sweat and urine. It is difficult to get Mike to stand, though, and he takes a few moments of balancing him before he lets go. Mike doesn’t react. His head is low and the peak of his hat covers his eyes.

Charlie huffs and stalks out into the hall while Hank stays with Mike. Minutes pass and the two say nothing to each other. Hank knows better than to ask the night watchmen about their times in this place; Mike has no words for him anyway.

“SCHMIDT!”

Charlie knows what Mike did.

He comes storming back into the office and stomps over to Mike. He is taller than Mike, so thinks it easy to intimidate him. Mike isn’t intimidated. He doesn’t react as Charlie shouts, “Did you _tamper_ with the animatronics?! Well?! DID YOU?!”

Strangely, Mike does not hesitate to speak. It is immediate. It is in a voice that doesn’t feel like his own. “Spare me, sir, they killed the Phone Guy.”

Charlie pauses. He is confused at Mike’s tone, at Mike’s words and at Mike’s naming of the man whom he has never heard of. “… _What_ ‘Phone Guy‘…?”

Hank looks to the red phone on the little table wordlessly. It is all the answer Charlie needs, and it isn’t even from Mike. Charlie shoves Mike aside and storms up to Phone Guy, then grabs him and listens. It takes a moment because the stupid idiot hasn’t pressed a button yet. When he does, the phone rings, then answers.

“Hello? Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night.”

“CAWTHON, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!” Charlie roars as he throws Phone Guy down. Mike flinches; not at the sound of the receiver hitting its cradle, but because he doesn’t like it when Phone Guy is hurt.

He isn’t obsessed.

“THAT FUCKING PRICK!” He whips around to Mike and grabs him by his collar. Hank looks like he wants to intervene, but he doesn’t, so what’s the point. Charlie’s face is enough to frighten Freddy as he scowls at Mike, _“What did he tell you? What did that bastard tell you? ANSWER ME, SCHMIDT!”_

“…All that I needed to know…” Mike’s mumbled answer comes. He still doesn’t uncover his eyes.

Charlie growls lowly and throws Mike down. Hank looks like he wants to tell him to calm down, but he doesn’t. Honestly, what is the point of this guy? Mike’s boss spins around to the desk and throws open a drawer, rips a pink slip out and digs into his suit pocket for a pen. He pulls one out, clicks the button and scribbles on the pink slip. As soon as he is done, he whips around to Mike and shoves the pink slip to his chest, “Get the fuck out of my restaurant, Schmidt. Now.”

Mike’s hand comes up and lays on the slip, keeping it pressed to his chest. He wants to show it to Phone Guy. He will in a moment, when these two are gone.

Phone Guy will be so happy for him.

Charlie goes to leave through the right door, but not before he points at Phone Guy with one end of the very pen he used to seal Mike’s career. “Hank, destroy this fucking thing.”

And something in Mike snaps.

“NOOOO!!” Mike screams suddenly, scaring the crap out of both of the other men. He sprints the short distance and places himself between Phone Guy and Charlie, arms spread out to protect his idol.

Charlie stares, then his gaze turns steely, “For fuck’s sake, Schmidt…Get out of the way.”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Mike shouts at him angrily, “DON’T EVEN GO _NEAR_ PHONE GUY!”

“For God’s sake, Schmidt, you’ve _lost it!_ Get out of the way!”

“NO!”

“You’re crazy, Schmidt! _Move!”_

“I WON’T!”

“Then I’ll MAKE YOU!”

“DO WHAT YOU WANT - I WON’T MOVE!!”

He will die for Phone Guy if he has to.

He isn’t obsessed.

Hank steps forward before Charlie can. “Mike, please,” he holds out a hand toward Phone Guy and Mike panics. He grabs the keys from his belt, picks the gold-coloured one and slashes it through the air. Hank yelps and hisses and blood leaks from the cut on his hand. It drips to the floor.

Mike is fairly certain Freddy can smell it. Why not? He can smell fear, right?

Charlie’s eyes widen, then he looks to Mike, “Dear God…Schmidt, what the hell? What the _hell?_ You need to get your goddamn act together, Schmidt! Scott is _dead._ Fucking deal with it!”

Scott? Who’s Scott? Mike doesn’t know a Scott.

Charlie brings his attention to his employee’s wound, then he turns to the doorway again, “C’mon, Hank. Leave the kid to play with his toy. We’ll come back for it later.” He walks out. “Cawthon and Schmidt - a match made in fucking _heaven_ right there! Both of ‘em - pricks who betray my trust!”

Mike doesn’t move from in front of Phone Guy. He won’t.

Hank looks to him, cradling his injured hand in his good one, then goes to follow Charlie. He is one foot out of the door when he looks back, “Kid, it’s just a phone.”

“Fuck you.” Mike growls out.

Hank sighs and leaves. Mike waits for a few moments to see if they will come back to try and take Phone Guy away from him again. They do not. He turns, his bloodshot eyes in pain from tears and panic, and gives Phone Guy a little smile, “Sorry you had to see that, Phone Guy. Those guys are real pricks, aren’t they?” He pats the receiver, regarding the man with soft eyes. “They won’t get you, though. If you can survive two years in here, then you can get away from those two, right?”

Mike sets his pink slip between his teeth. Without a second thought, he squeezes his fingers underneath the phone and lifts it up carefully in his hands, then carries it out, “C’mon, Phone Guy,” he whispers to his hero, “you’re coming home with me.”

Because fuck everyone else. Freddy can have them.

…

The driver of the bus he catches wrinkles his nose at him when Mike pays for two people to board. He tries to correct him, but Mike insists that’s correct and the man questions no further. Money’s money, right? It isn’t just that. Mike is fully aware how badly he stinks of piss. He doesn’t care, though. He just hopes Phone Guy hasn’t noticed. He probably has. Just being polite.

Good ol’ Phone Guy.

The bus is practically empty, save for a man in a suit and a young lady. The man is at the front of the bus and stares at Mike and Phone Guy as they find seats of their own. The young lady is too drunk to notice them.

Mike lets Phone Guy have the window seat; he figures it’s been awhile since he’s seen the outside. He will have to take him to the park sometime. Phone Guy will love the park. Mike jokes that he will push Phone Guy on the swing and let him have a go on the slide. Phone Guy doesn’t need to laugh; Mike does so for the both of them.

They reach Mike’s house in no time and Mike nudges Phone Guy before they exit the bus. He is sure Phone Guy had fallen asleep. Couldn’t have let him sleep any longer. The brunet carries his friend to the front door, then balances him awkwardly in one hand and on one knee as he collects his door key from his pocket and opens his front door. The Schmidt residence isn’t much; it never has been. Too much financial trouble to make the place look pretty, but it is tolerable. Mike’s bedroom is downstairs. He heads there first.

It is a simple room with a bed, a desk and a closet. The bed is enough for only one person, the closet is small and the desk is hardly used. Mike sits Phone Guy on his bed for a moment, smiling at him gently, “Welcome to Schmidt’s, Phone Guy. Kinda weird having you here. Good weird, though. Good weird.” He goes to the desk and selects a lovely spot for him, then grabs one of the two pillows from his bed and places it on the desk. Then he picks Phone Guy up and places him on the pillow.

Phone Guy will be happy here. He has a window to look out of and Mike is always nearby.

“Should be comfortable here, Phone Guy. Kind of an upgrade from that tiny little table back in Freddy’s, huh?”

He knows it is. Only the best for Phone Guy.

He isn’t obsessed.

Mike leaves the room with a promise to come back, then heads to the bathroom to shower. His clothes cling to him and he has to fight to take them off. They’re soaked and they smell funny. He washes quickly and dresses in a sleeveless top and a pair of boxers.

Ready for bed.

His mother is fast asleep upstairs. He hasn’t disturbed her and he asks Phone Guy not to either. She is sick and needs her rest.

Mike goes to Phone Guy before bed and he stares. He waits for Phone Guy to say something.

Phone Guy has nothing to say. Mike is sure he is asleep.

Mike climbs into bed and settles down on the one pillow he kept for himself. He looks to Phone Guy and gives him a smile, then shuts his eyes.

His dreams contain screaming bears.

…

Mike cleans Phone Guy everyday. Phone Guy can’t do it for himself and Mike is glad to do so for him. It’s a simple procedure. Head is first, then back and arms, then chest and legs. Phone Guy is embarrassed, he can tell. He assures him that he will not laugh and continues cleaning. They’re both men after all, right?

Right.

One just better than the other.

Mike brings him the newspaper in the morning and leaves a glass of milk and a slice of toast for breakfast time. Phone Guy doesn’t eat the toast and he doesn’t drink his milk. Mike asks if Phone Guy doesn’t like them or if he’s prepared the toast wrong. Maybe Phone Guy doesn’t like toast when it’s black like that. Mike does. Phone Guy doesn’t respond to Mike’s questions, so Mike assumes he’s fine with them and simply isn’t hungry right now. Or thirsty.

He opens the newspaper for Phone Guy because Phone Guy can’t do it himself. He waits for a minute or so, then turns the page. Phone Guy doesn’t tell him to stop and go back or wait, so Mike assumes he’s okay. He’s a fast reader. Cool.

Mike is learning so much about him.

…

Mike spends hours with Phone Guy nowadays. He talks to him and shares thoughts that he shares with no one else. Phone Guy listens so well. It’s funny - Mike’s used to listening to him.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Mike’s mother knocks at the door sometimes. He tells her to go away because he is speaking to his best friend. She doesn’t react for the most part. Phone Guy still hasn’t touched his toast or his milk.

Mike doesn’t take them away.

He’ll get hungry. Or thirsty.

Eventually.

…

Phone Guy hasn’t spoken ever since Mike brought him back. Mike doesn’t blame him.

He’s probably shy. Or overwhelmed. That’s alright.

Mike can wait.

…

Mike looks for a job one day. One look at his criminal record and everyone turns him away. Mike can’t exactly blame them, but that doesn’t stop him from losing it.

The police are called twice.

Mike gets home and goes to see Phone Guy. He is waiting patiently for him.

Mike hugs him and cries into his shoulder.

…

Mike showers quickly nowadays. He doesn’t like to leave Phone Guy alone for too long. Phone Guy gets lonely very easily. The times he had at Freddy’s fucked him up.

Weird. It hasn’t had that effect on Mike.

When Mike returns to his room, he finds his mother picking up the receiver. He shouts at her in the same way he shouted at Charlie and tells her to leave him alone. Phone Guy doesn’t like strangers.

He only likes Mike.

His mother cries, but he ignores it in favour of checking Phone Guy over. She got dirt on his arm. Mike snaps at her to get out while he grabs the cloth he uses to clean Phone Guy. He cleans him thoroughly. The dirt his mother had left is gone very quickly and Mike gives Phone Guy a hug to comfort him.

He is not to be touched by anyone else.

Only Mike.

…

He isn’t obsessed.

He isn’t crazy.

His mother is still sick and he still pays for her medicine.

It is, after all, the only reason he took that job at Freddy’s.

But now he cares for Phone Guy too.

It takes more time out of his life.

It’s worth it.

Phone Guy is worth it.

He always has been.

…

Before Mike goes to sleep every night, he makes sure the lights are on and the door is locked.

Phone Guy gets scared otherwise.

Phone Guy hasn’t touched his toast or his milk. The toast has mould and the milk has curdled. It fucking stinks. He offers to take them from him. Phone Guy doesn’t reply. Mike leaves them there.

He goes out and tries to find a job again.

This time, the police are called only once.

A girl at one of the stores he tries comforts him when he doesn’t get it. He tells her to back off because he has the best comfort ever waiting for him at home.

He doesn’t need anyone else when he’s got Phone Guy.

…

They’ve been through too much together to let go now.

Phone Guy lives with Mike because he wants to.

Mike loves having Phone Guy live with him.

It’s the only arrangement that works.

…

Charlie and Hank don’t even try to get Phone Guy away from him.

He’s pretty sure they don’t care at this point.

Good.

They wouldn’t be able to anyway.

Mike will not let Phone Guy go so easily.

…

It’s been three months now.

Phone Guy still hasn’t spoken.

Mike doesn’t blame him.

…

Mike falls asleep in front of the TV one night while he watches a movie. Phone Guy doesn’t like horror movies, so Mike didn’t bother asking if he wanted to join. The movie reaches its climax when Mike finally wakes up, halfway off of the couch.

The phone is ringing.

Mike freezes as he lays there. The clock strikes five passed midnight.

The phone is still ringing.

Mike sits up on the couch and ignores the TV as he slowly looks over his shoulder. His mother is fast asleep upstairs. He hardly talks to her anymore. Phone Guy has invaded the bond they use to have.

The phone is still ringing.

Mike stands up, popcorn raining from his lap as he does so. He walks slowly to the door of his bedroom. It is definitely that phone. Mike knows it well. He lays a hand on the door and hesitates, then opens it. The room is dark.

No wonder Phone Guy wants to speak. He must be so scared.

Mike mentally apologises, though he doesn’t turn on the light. He walks over to Phone Guy and stares for a moment.

Then he picks up the receiver.

“Hello? Hello, hello?”

It’s him.

Mike’s eyes flood with tears.

“Hey. Hey, wow. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I’ve never hung around another employee after work hours before! This is fun. Uh - but you know, you’ve been acting a bit…different, lately. Uh - I’m not judging, of course. Am I blaming you? No. I understand completely. Freddy and his friends, uh, they certainly leave their mark. I was spooked too - don’t worry. That job can be very overwhelming when you’re, uh, when you’re not prepared. I’m glad I recorded those messages for you.

“But, hey, go easy on your mom, huh, Junior? Family’s important, you know. I don’t, uh…I-I don’t wanna come in between you and her. That wouldn’t be right. A-After all, she’s your mom. Moms come first, am I right? I-I know I’d be devastated if my mom and I were to, uh, part…Then again, considering what’s happened, I think we might already _have._ Uh…yeah…that’s not fun to think about. Uh, in any case, Junior, try to be a little nicer. I know she’d appreciate it.

“Uh - anyway. I just wanna say thanks again for letting me stay with you. It’s been fun so far. Certainly better than, uh, than where I was. Chin up, Junior, everything gets better from here. Try to be nicer from now on, huh? Like your old self, maybe? Uh - thanks again. Talk to you soon!”

Click.

Mike Schmidt begins sobbing then and there.

Mike Schmidt begins to laugh.

Mike Schmidt falls to the desk and hugs Phone Guy hard.

Mike Schmidt continues laughing and sobbing.

Mike Schmidt had always known Phone Guy would never lose.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note:
> 
> Well, that was refreshing.
> 
> I like insane Mike. Should write more insane Mike.
> 
> Anyways, my Mike has a massive and undying respect/loyalty to Phone Guy for saving his life and all. Other than that, my Mike was pretty OOC in this, particularly the part about yelling at his mum. Mike’s a mummy’s boy - he just wouldn’t.
> 
> Like I said, this wasn’t intended to be shippy, but if you took it that way - by all means. Enjoy the ship.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!


End file.
